People in the World, Part 2 of 2

December 23, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 54 Comments

Welcome back to Part 2 of my people-watching tour…this time in the western hemisphere.

As I explained in Part 1, my wife and I have had a couple decades of observing wildlife in different parts of the world. We go to faraway places, usually in tropical locations where there tend to be more birds and mammals. After our plane lands in the big city, we make our way into the small towns, villages and rural areas to observe and photograph wildlife…and enjoy the people too.

These are some of the people we have literally encountered along the way–many photos are snapped through a van window as we’re driving through town. Small local villages, schools, homes and markets.

Featured here are Peru, Mexico and Belize.

PERU.

We spent about a week in motorized canoes cruising an Amazon tributary and camping in the rainforest.

We often saw small villages on the river’s edge. In the second photo below, the villagers had harvested bananas and we’re preparing them for market.

In contrast to the humidity and heat of the Amazon River Basin, farmers in the Andes mountains grow potatoes and grains at high altitudes.

This woman, below, is heading back to the farm, potatoes on her back. The potato originated in Peru over 8,000 years ago and remains a staple here. There are also grain crops visible here, the purplish-red patch (center left) is quinoa.

These potato farmers, below, are selling their crop at a village market.

One morning we were driving through this town below where the local market was bustling with residents. You can see how the Andes Mountains in the background tower over the town.

Nearby, the children were gathering for a day of school. Across the street the little children were jumping around a parked truck filled with citrus fruit, looked like tangerines; and the bigger kids, below, were engaging with their teacher outside the school.

In larger towns we would often see stone steps and houses built into the mountainsides. The blue “flags” (center right) in this residential alley indicate where corn alcohol can be purchased.

MEXICO.

One year we journeyed to a small Mexican town, San Blas, for birding. A coastal state, Nayarit. We had arranged online with a recommended local birding guide for several days of birding together. The guide, Armando, did not drive so his friend Lupe, who was a taxi driver, drove.

We drove all over the town and countryside in a yellow taxi…had so much fun.

Armando had a penchant for fried pork rinds so every day we stopped along the way for those. He knew where to find good food. One day he took us to a local eatery, a canvas-covered plot in a banana plantation where we ate exceptionally delicious food and hand-made tortillas made to order.

In many of the small towns there were large barbecue grills selling savory hot food on the street.

We did a lot of birding in the plantations. While we were focused on a large flock of little green parrotlets, this man walked by, below, on his way to pick coffee berries very early one morning.

We also spent a lot of time on and around the San Blas River spotting pelicans, herons and other waders.

Several local families, like this one below, were frequently enjoying a day on the water.

BELIZE.

Belize is a Central American country bordering the Caribbean Sea, Mexico, Guatemala and Honduras and has a wide array of ethnic groups and cultures. Per Wikipedia: “Belize has a diverse society that is composed of many cultures and languages that reflect its rich history.”

One of our destinations was Lamanai, an archaeological site, to spot birds and howler monkeys. Out in the country we came across a village of Mennonite farmers. There are about 12,000 Mennonite residents in Belize, originating from various places but primarily of Russian heritage.

More info: Mennonites in Belize, Wikipedia.

It happened to be Sunday and we came across much of the village on the road. Each family was in a buggy pulled by a horse, their horses in a gentle trot toward church. Below is the parking area of the rural church we passed.

Hours later, as we entered the rainforest trail, spotting birds, bats and howlers, this group of Mennonites walked by us. The men walked in one group (in front), and the women and children followed. They were taking the day off from work.

Days later in a different area, we drove through Belize’s capital, Belmopan, as school was letting out.

We also spent several days at a large lagoon spotting snail kites, raptors and waders, Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary.

Our guide, Glen, grew up around here and seemed to know everyone. Here he is (below, in front) with his cousin who was out in his yard cleaning the fish he had caught that day. There’s an opportunistic cat, too.

That wraps up the series People in the World. It’s a big world, a very big world, with many different types of people, cultures, and lifestyles.

And yet, as it goes, we are all very much the same.

Happy Holidays to you, my friends. Thanks for joining me this year, see you next year!

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

People in the World, Part 1 of 2

December 16, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 54 Comments

As we wrap up 2022, I end this year’s posts with a two-part series featuring fellow humans I have glimpsed throughout my travels.

All of the destinations in our travels are with one thing in mind: to visit wilderness habitats where we can spot wild mammals and birds. We go to out-of-the-way places observing wildlife.

Humans are not the focus, but of course we find humans along the way. They lead the way. I love humans too; they are, after all, my species.

Although my partner and I like many different places on this planet, Africa is our favorite. We have visited five countries.

While every one of the 54 countries in Africa are different, we found similarities in the people.

One similarity: there are many villages in Africa. The three photos below reflect villages in Botswana, Kenya, and Zambia.

Of course Africa has many large cities and towns as well. We gravitate towards wilderness, so villages and small towns were where we spent the most time.

Livingstone, below, is a city of 134,000 people located on the southern Zambia border. It is near Victoria Falls, a popular tourist destination and therefore a bigger establishment.

Victoria Falls, Zambia. Photo A. Alexander.

Another similarity among the African countries, like every country in the world, is that locals congregate around the markets where they buy and sell wares.

There are market photos throughout this post.

Also evident in much of Africa: many folks walk. They walk everywhere. This family, below, just bought groceries in Livingstone and are carrying them home.

Walking home with groceries, Livingstone, Zambia

Below is a border crossing at Zambia/Botswana in southern Africa. We went through Customs here four times, and there was always a lot going on–a lively, animated place.

Until last year, crossing the Zambezi River, another border, was tricky because relations between Zambia and Botswana had been strained for so long that they never built a bridge to cross the river.

These villagers in the photo below are waiting their turn for the ferry, to cross the Zambezi to shop and sell; some people work on the other side of the river every day. The ferry was very crowded. I stood on the deck eye-to-eye with a man’s string mop.

The Zambezi at Kazungula Crossing, Africa

Fortunately, the Kazungula Bridge was completed last year, providing another option now than just the ferry.

Transportation in African countries also had similarities. Vehicles are not owned by every adult, so in addition to pedestrians there are many bicycles and shared vehicles.

In the cities at morning rush hour, we often saw vans so full of people that their bodies were bursting out of it–some commuters holding on with one leg on the floorboard and one leg dangling in the wind.

This pick-up truck, below, could not have been any more loaded. Those big colored barrels on top are for carrying water.

This woman has a heavy load too, including her little one.

For locals who have the fortune to live near water, dugout canoes were a frequent scene despite hippo-studded waters. Fishermen make their living in canoes, and canoes are used for transportation as well.

All the bumps in the river below are hippos, except for the canoe with two men (at the bottom).

I hope you enjoyed these passing glimpses of African locals in their towns and villages. Next week we’ll cruise over to the Western Hemisphere.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Spectacular Coast Scenes

December 9, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 81 Comments

Last week was another great adventure to Point Reyes, but this time we explored the Lighthouse area. Here are some of the sights we savored that day.

Called Outer Point Reyes, this part of the peninsula extends 13 miles into the Pacific Ocean.

Usually it is dense with fog–wet fog obliterating every view; and gusting, buffeting winds so strong that you can’t stand still even if you tried.

Often when you stand at the top of these steps (below), you can’t even see the lighthouse. But not that day.

The first magical moment came when we were still in the parking lot. We were at the back of our car donning extra layers of clothes.

Far from any humans in a nearly empty parking lot, out of the blue a middle-aged man walked up to us. He said we might be interested in the whales. He’d been watching them for quite some time…”lots of spouts” out there.

Binoculars in hand, we walked to the overlook with him, facing out at the glorious expanse of the Pacific Ocean. He pointed out the spouts.

It was the most amazing sight! Over two dozen whale spouts silently shooting out of the sea.

Many of the spouts were difficult to photograph because they were so far away. But this photo below shows several.

Gray Whale Spouts and the Farallon Islands, CA

Soon after, he drove off in his sports car.

Point Reyes is a marine sanctuary where gray whales can safely travel in their migration south. (Eschrichtius robustus)

They are headed for Baja California in Mexico where they will mate and give birth, and then return to the Arctic when the weather warms.

Sometimes a fluke breached the water, visible through binoculars.

We watched the whales for nearly an hour. Also saw a peregrine falcon soaring around the lighthouse, several turkey vultures, a wren and a busy black phoebe.

Next we ventured over to Drakes Bay to see if the elephant seals were at the overlook near Chimney Rock.

On the way, few cars were on the road, so wildlife were close.

We noticed the land mammals had thicker coats for the winter.

Black-tailed deer, *Odocoileus hemionus columbianus*, CA

Another pleasant surprise greeted us at the elephant seal overlook: about a half-dozen elephant seals were frolicking and vocalizing. They are often seen sleeping soundly in the warmth of the sun…can easily be mistaken for driftwood.

But these were young males having some play time. These individuals have not yet acquired their enlarged noses that resemble elephant snouts or proboscis.

Northern Elephant Seals, *Mirounga angustirostris*, CA

Brown pelicans, western grebes, various species of ducks and kelp seaweed were also in the water.

Turkey vultures, songbirds, ravens and flickers flew overhead.

Northern Flicker, coastal red-shafted, CA

Before heading home, we were treated to one last delight.

On the main road there are numerous dairy farms. Acres of pasture and herds of cows, a few ranches with barns and houses.

We were driving past a herd of dairy cows when we spotted three tule elk bulls quietly grazing beside the cows. All mammals were fenced in and safe from traffic. There is a tule elk preserve miles away; apparently they are escapees. Renegades. And so majestic.

Tule Elk, *Cervus canadensis nannodes*, CA

Every day in the wilderness is one of beauty. Fog and wind are beautiful…rainy days are too. But occasionally a really special day comes along with sunny skies, tranquil moments, and a dazzling array of wildlife…extraordinary beauty.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Fresnel Lens Yesterday and Today

December 2, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 72 Comments

With the long, dark winter nights we’re experiencing in the Northern Hemisphere, it is a good time to celebrate the marvel of an invention that brought light to our world centuries ago, and still today.

Even before the first light bulb was invented, a powerful lens was invented.

It was a modern invention of the 1820s that revolutionized the sciences of light and marine navigation.

The lens design, created by a physicist, was maximized to capture light reflection and refraction. It is an array of prisms managing the mechanics of light, extending the light to then-unprecedented lengths.

The inventor, Augustin Fresnel (1788-1827), lived on the rugged west coast of France near Brittany, where tragic shipwrecks repeatedly occurred and human lives frequently perished. He invented the lens for lighthouses, to light up the coast more efficiently for ship captains to see what was in front of them. The first Fresnel lens was installed there, on the coast of France, in 1822.

A Fresnel lens could easily throw its light 20 or more miles.

France, and then Scotland, commissioned the lenses for lighthouses; eventually they spread across the world. The Fresnel lens came to U.S. lighthouses in the 1850s.

Fresnel Lens, 5th Order, Vashon Isl., WA

Prior to the Fresnel (pronounced fray-NEL) lens invention, oil lamps supplied the light and various inventions helped extend the light, but it was not enough to prevent shipwrecks.

I came upon this discovery not by navigating a ship along the coast, but by hiking on an island in the San Francisco Bay. Angel Island.

In the visitor center, a nearly two-foot glass structure shaped like a beehive was perched on a stand near the door–caught my attention.

I am one of those people who stops in their tracks for shadows and sunbeams, fascinated by reflections and refractions. And this giant piece of glass was winking up a storm at me.

It is 21.3 inches high (.54 m). Fresnel lenses come in different sizes, or orders. Both lenses in this post are 5th Order. 1st Order is the largest, 6th Order is smaller. Link for more info is below.

The original Fresnel lenses can often be seen in lighthouses, like this one at Point Robinson on Vashon Island in Washington. The lamp/lens is inside the lighthouse (below), visible underneath the red, cone-shaped roof.

Vashon Island, WA Lighthouse. Photo: Athena Alexander

Here is a closer look at the lens, with majestic Mount Rainier presiding in the background.

Though there are still Fresnel lenses in lighthouses today, the science has largely been replaced by navigational systems like radar and radio signal towers and global positioning systems (GPS).

There are many lighthouses that still have the original Fresnel lenses, most of which are no longer operational. Almost always the lens/lamp is there due to a concerted effort by maritime enthusiasts, volunteers, and donations. Today they are highly regarded and valuable treasures.

The United States Lighthouse Society has a website filled with information about U.S. lighthouses including two lists of lighthouses that have operational and non-operational Fresnel Lenses.

Link: Fresnel Lenses in the U.S.

Link: Operational Fresnel Lenses in the U.S.

Link: Wikipedia Fresnel Lens

Link: Augustin-Jean Fresnel Wikipedia

The magic of the Fresnel lens does not stop in the 1800s. Today working Fresnel lenses are found in spotlights, floodlights, railroad and traffic signals, emergency vehicle lights and more.

Photographers use them to illuminate a scene. Athena uses a Fresnel lens flash extender on her camera, especially when we are out birding on night walks or dark days. It is a flimsy plastic lens that attaches to the flash unit and extends the flash up to 300 feet (91 m).

She captured this scene below with her “Better Beamer” flash extender. We were in the Belizean rainforest when a spectacled owl had just snatched up a fer-de-lance snake and landed in a tree 200 feet away (61 m).

Spectacled Owl with Fer-de-lance snake, Belize

The Fresnel lens has been bringing light into this world for ages, whether it was preventing fatal shipwrecks two centuries ago or capturing dynamic owl scenes today. That is something to celebrate.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Land of the Hummingbird

November 25, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 79 Comments

As we head deeper into winter in the Northern Hemisphere, let’s take a few minutes to frolic in the tropics. Trinidad is called Land of the Hummingbird–here are some of the beautiful birds and butterflies we have seen there.

Trinidad is an island in the Caribbean Sea less than 10 miles (16km) off South America’s Venezuelan coast.

Read more about Trinidad here: Trinidad Wikipedia.

Although Trinidad’s primary industry is oil and gas, parts of the island are rainforest and plantations. You can see from this photo below how extensive the tree canopy is.

And now we will go below the canopy to find thriving birds in every color of the rainbow. We’ll start with a few of the hummingbirds.

We have 15 species of hummingbirds living in our very large country of America. In the small dual-island nation of Trinidad-Tobago, with an area of less than 2,000 sq. miles (5,131 km2), there are more hummingbird species than in all the U.S.: 18.

This hummingbird’s iridescent crown and gorget feathers lit up with a simple turn of his head in the perfect light. Its name is “copper-rumped”…but who’s looking at the rump?

Four additional hummingbird species are below; Blue-chinned Sapphire, White-necked Jacobin, Tufted Coquette, and White-chested Emerald.

This tufted coquette below, with his orange mohawk and polka dots, has bits of pollen on the end of his bill. He was tiny and zipping around at lightning speed…and very busy.

You may not be able to see it, but this white-chested emerald hummingbird has a bit of his tongue sticking out.

There were many native, red-flowered bushes on the trail (below), attractive to hummingbirds.

But it wasn’t just hummingbirds we found in Trinidad, there was an abundance of other colorful species as well.

Scarlet ibis live in Trinidad, roosting at night on small coastal islands. I wrote a post recently that included Trinidad’s scarlet ibis. Link: Celebrating Ibis.

And there were many honeycreeper species, too. In Hawaii, honeycreepers take the place of hummingbirds in the avian world. But in Trinidad they have both.

This male purple honeycreeper is absolutely show-stopping. I found it difficult to take the binoculars down and keep walking–I would stop and stare for the longest time.

And the female of the same species, often close by, is also colorful and beautiful. Green legs!

And then there’s the green honeycreeper which is another stunner. The bird’s name is “green” but it’s really turquoise.

With all the nectar plants around, there were of course butterflies. Interestingly, the two butterfly species below both have bird names: the owl butterfly and the scarlet peacock, below that.

The owl butterfly below is not as colorful as some butterflies, but the “eye” marking is easily discernable. Many scientists posit that the eyespot is an evolutionary tool of mimicry, resembling eyes of predators that hunt by sight; while others say the conspicuous contrast in markings deters predators.

It wouldn’t be right to highlight the wild nectar feeders without including at least one bat. Trinidad has approximately 70 bat species, an incredible amount.

One night at dusk we spotted a stream of bats flying out from under our lodge building. We went back every night thereafter for a bat bonanza.

And lastly, here are two songbirds to sing to you of the color and beauty here on earth.

The violaceous euphonia with his furry yellow forehead.

And the ubiquitous bananaquit, often found at our outdoor breakfast table trying to sneak a little sugar.

I hope this tickle of the tropics helped warm you, my friends.

Written by Jet Eliot.

All photos in the wild by Athena Alexander.

On the Dock of the Bay

November 18, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 73 Comments

Beautiful day at Bodega Bay, a spot in northern California that I gravitate to several times a year. Our visit earlier this month was highlighted by my dear sister and brother-in-law joining Athena, her camera, and me.

Upon our arrival, fishing boats were traversing the marked channels and fog horns pierced through the briny, moist air.

There is a commercial fish-cleaning dock I like to go to early when the fishing activity is bustling. We can usually find opportunistic sea lions vying for scraps thrown in the water.

This day we found two sea lions hauled out on the dock of the bay. They were sleepy, intertwined.

Common on our west coast, California sea lions (Zalophus californianus) are classified as eared seals in the Otariidae family. They’re called eared seals because they have visible ear flaps; seals don’t have these. You can see the “ears” in the next two close-ups.

I’ve read they can turn the flaps downward while swimming and diving, so water doesn’t enter their ears. They have hearing function both in air and under water.

California Sea Lions Wikipedia

Eventually one sea lion went for a swim. This sea mammal weighs several hundred pounds, and yet they manage to slip into the water almost soundlessly.

But the quiet ended there when the docked sea lion began barking very loudly…and went on for about five minutes.

This sleepy harbor seal dozed through all the commotion.

The bay is lively with birds, too.

By now the winter birds have migrated here from colder climes. Marbled godwits, a shorebird, and surf scoters, a sea duck, were two species we were celebrating that day, as we do not see them in most other months of the year. By March or so they will be heading back north.

Here are the marbled godwits (below). They are distinctive for their long, bi-colored bill.

Surf scoters are eye-catching with the male’s bright-colored bill, white eyes and white markings. Found all along our west coast in winter, they are large ducks, males measure at 19 inches long (48 cm).

Other bird species around the bay included western grebes, a few common loons and many herons and egrets. This snowy egret, below, found delicacies in tide-soaked sea grass.

There is a small pond by the bay where a gregarious flock of yellow-rumped warblers popped around. We’re lucky they spend their winters here on the west coast.

A five-minute drive up from the bay is a Pacific Ocean overlook called Bodega Head that offers hiking and gorgeous ocean views. Whales can be spotted from up here too, but not until about January.

The ocean rocks showcased brown pelicans, western gulls, Brandt’s and double-crested cormorants. A friendly birder with a scope gave us a distant view of a common murre, as black oystercatchers called from the rocks.

On the west coast we have black oystercatchers with a black belly, red bill and red eye; whereas the east coast has the American oystercatcher, a white-bellied bird.

The tide was low so we had the added pleasure of spotting a few sea stars clinging to the sides of the rocks (below).

We ate our packed lunch and watched the birds, humans and sea mammals as they foraged for sea life.

Then, after hours at the coast, it was time to head home. Fog horns continued their rhythmic warnings as we reluctantly drove off.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander unless otherwise specified.

Foggy Morning

October 14, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 94 Comments

My morning walks this week have been blessedly cool and shrouded in fog…please join me.

In Northern California this time of year the nights have become longer and cooler, and fog lingers in our valley until about 9 a.m.

I love it like this. Droplets in the air and fog dripping from the leaves means moisture…a pleasant respite from the monthslong drought typical of our summers. It brings us hope for rainy months in the winter ahead.

The local deer, the black-tailed species, quietly graze in the hush of the fog. They are a sub-species of mule deer. (Odocoileus hemionus columbianus)

In the summer the wild turkeys were often under cover as they raised their vulnerable chicks. But now they’re out in the mornings in family flocks, feeding on the ground seeds.

We do have changing colored leaves on the west coast in autumn, though not as prominent as our American friends in the east.

Color comes out in the liquidambar trees, pyracantha and other berries, deciduous oaks and still-flowering ornamental gardens.

Pyracantha (foreground), Liquidambar (back), CA

The California buckeye trees (Aesculus californica), an endemic and the only buckeye native to the state, are completely leafless already. For a month they have had no leaves, baring only their dangling poisonous seeds, also known as horse chestnuts.

On my walk I found a fallen buckeye and brought it home to crack open and show you.

Gradually the morning quietness perked up with the chatter of songbirds as the shrouded sunshine began its rise.

With the autumn weather new songbird migrants have arrived from the north, including the Oregon dark-eyed junco subspecies, coming to join the resident juncos. Junco hyemalis.

The clear, plaintive notes of a white-crowned sparrow cut through all the fog…but the loud and distinctive honking of the Canada Geese quickly drowned it out.

The geese congregate every morning in this field. As we walked closer, we witnessed smaller groups descending through the fog, seeing them long after hearing them.

Eventually the sun started to burn off the fog and a patch of blue sky peeked through here and there, until its light and warmth had pierced the heavy marine layer.

The sun brightened the garden colors and highlighted the friendliest scarecrow I have ever seen.

Community Garden and Ballerina Scarecrow, CA

This time of year, chili peppers can be seen in many gardens.

This golden-crowned sparrow had a moment of glory when the sun brightened his namesake crown.

As our final steps brought us to the front door, an Anna’s hummingbird bid us adieu.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

The Land of Florida

October 7, 2022October 7, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 75 Comments

Zebra Longwing Butterfly, FL state insect

In the aftermath of last week’s devastating Hurrican Ian in Florida, we have all seen much news about the tragic destruction. I have a brief tour for you highlighting the beauty and wild creatures in this fine state.

Geologically, the Florida peninsula is a porous plateau of limestone sitting atop bedrock. The limestone is topped with sandy soils deposited over millions of years of rising and falling sea levels. Today, much of the state is at or below sea level. See topographical map at end.

Florida has the longest coastline of any contiguous state–8,436 miles (13,576 km).

The Florida Reef is the third largest coral barrier reef system in the world (after the Great Barrier Reef and the Belize Barrier Reef).

More info: Florida Wikipedia

There are many species of plants, birds, mammals, reptiles and insects in this subtropical and tropical wonderland.

You don’t have to be in Florida long to spot their state reptile, the American alligator (Alligator mississippiensis).

With all that coastline, sea birds and wading birds are commonly seen throughout the state.

The Florida Keys, the state’s popular coral cay archipelago, are the southernmost part of the continental U.S. They never have freezing temperatures and tropical wildlife thrives here.

Also in southern Florida, the Everglades offer an ecosystem that is not presently found anywhere else on earth.

Several ecosystems comprise the Everglades, as shown in this diagram, below.

Everglades Ecosystems. Courtesy Wikipedia

More info: Everglades Wikipedia

Much of the natural land of southern Florida is swamp and wetland, although decades of extensive human development have altered the natural state.

More recently, in the last few decades, scientists, citizens and environmentalists have done a lot to restore wetlands, important for many reasons. More info: Wetland Wikipedia.

Audubon Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, also in southern Florida, offers visitors a view of the Everglades ecosystem, while providing a safe preserve for the abundant life.

The sanctuary has one of the largest remaining stands of bald and pond cypress trees, seen below, in North America.

This painted bunting, one of our country’s most colorful songbirds, greeted us while there.

One year we sought and found wild Florida manatees, the state’s designated marine mammal, near Tampa on the west coast. The manatees stayed submerged, so our photos didn’t come out well.

Oddly enough, the Big Bend Power Plant has a discharge canal that is attractive to the manatees for its warm water, and the state and federal governments have designated it a manatee sanctuary.

The west coast of Florida is flanked by the Gulf of Mexico. This coast, especially in the south, is where the recent hurricane did the most damage.

Sanibel Island, shown in photos below and throughout, was severely damaged. It is inaccessible right now because the hurricane washed away the only road access.

These photos are from a few years back.

We were on Sanibel Island for a week and were frequently greeted by pods of bottle-nosed dolphins. Tursiops truncatus.

The sandy beaches of Sanibel, a barrier island, were covered every day with beautiful shells washed up from the recent tide.

J.N. “Ding” Darling National Wildlife Refuge is also on Sanibel Island. It is a 5,200 acre (21 km2) preserve and wilderness area.

The east coast of Florida is approximately 500 miles of Atlantic Ocean.

Below are the white sands and warm waters of Cocoa Beach. This was a day in November, on a separate visit.

After a thoroughly exhilarating visit to the Kennedy Space Center…

… we spent several hours birding on nearby Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge.

Channels of tannic water and mangrove trees are the perfect habitat for alligators. This one, below center, is especially long.

Common Gallinule adults and chick, Merritt Isl., FL

We were hoping to see the Florida Scrub-jay here, which would have been a life bird, but that day it proved elusive. We did, however, see many other birds.

Close to the northern border, a day at the Jacksonville Arboretum yielded one of their common woodpeckers in a tree filled with the ubiquitous Spanish moss. We do not have this woodpecker in California.

We also had an open view that day of the gopher tortoise, Florida’s designated state tortoise. Native to southeastern U.S. and a keystone species (i.e., has a disproportionately large effect on its natural environment), this Gopherus polyphemus was about the size of a small dinner plate.

That concludes our brief tour of the Sunshine State. This state of sunshine, warmth, and humidity is a troubled state this week and for years to come, after Ian’s destruction.

We hope for the best.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Celebrating Ibis

September 30, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 72 Comments

Humans have been celebrating ibis, a large wading bird, for thousands of years. Here is a brief overview and extensive photo gallery of ibis around the world; beginning with ancient times and ending with my favorite.

There are 29 species of ibis in the world today, on all continents except Antarctica.

Ancient Egyptians associated the ibis with Thoth, the God of wisdom and writing. Many ancient Egyptian art pieces present Thoth with the body of a man and the head of an ibis.

The prevalence of the ibis during ancient Egyptian times and the appeal of animal-inspired deities in general, can also be seen in the thousands of surviving ibis mummies in tombs throughout Egypt.

This wood ibis statue below dates to roughly 2,500 years ago.

All classified in the Threskiornithidae family, ibis have the long, downcurved bill as their most prominent feature.

Ibis Wikipedia

Ibis usually live in wetlands (though there are exceptions) using their long bills to probe into mud for food. They eat crayfish, crabs, small fish, insects and other invertebrates and crustaceans common in mudflats and marshes.

The three most common ibis species in North America are the white, white-faced and glossy.

In Northern California we have the white-faced ibis. Plegadis chihi. Populations declined with DDT and threatened marsh habitat from the 1940s to 1980s but have been resurrected via conservation efforts.

I have been birding the Sacramento Valley since the 1990s and have had the pleasure of watching the ibis populations gradually recover here.

This is a good photo (below, center) to demonstrate the size of the white-faced ibis compared to ducks.

White-faced Ibis w.Northern Shoveler ducks, CA

Ibis tend to be gregarious birds and are usually seen in flocks.

This is what a flock looks like without optics.

A sight I always find pleasing is watching ibis in flight–they have a characteristic silhouette with their long bill leading the way.

This flock (below) was animated and at times even comical, as they probed the water for crayfish. The crayfish were putting up a fight and had the birds hopping and flopping.

The eastern half of the country is home to the glossy ibis, almost identical to the white-faced. The white-faced species is believed to have evolved from the glossy.

The white-faced ibis only has a white face during breeding.

You can see from the photo below that the back of this white-faced ibis is a handsome array of purple, green and bronze plumage. The glossy ibis has a similar look during non-breeding plumage.

In Florida and many of the Gulf and southeastern coastal habitats of the U.S., the American white ibis is a common wader. Eudocimus albus. Its long, pink bill and all-white body makes it easy to identify.

This photo, below, was taken on Sanibel Island in Florida, where this week they are experiencing terrifying devastation by the wrath of Hurrican Ian. We hope for the best as the folks in SW Florida and the southeastern coastal states endure this extreme storm.

Ibis juveniles are sometimes tricky to identify. The white ibis, for example, has a juvenile stage in which the bird is not white. It is brown.

This is a juvenile white ibis (below, right) we saw on Jekyll Island in Georgia. It is perched in a tree with a wood stork.

Wood Stork (L), Juvenile White Ibis (R), GA

In Australia the Australian White Ibis (Threskiornis molucca) is widespread across most of the continent.

Ibis no longer exist in Egypt like they did thousands of years ago, but there are 11 extant species in Africa.

I have fond memories of Africa’s Hadada Ibis. Bostrychia hagedash. A primarily brown bird, they roosted overnight in the trees of our campsite in large flocks. Every morning they flew off, all in one marvelous squawking cacophony. It was always too dark to photograph them, but below is a good recording of just two Hadada.

Their onomatopoetic name is derived from the loud and distinctive “haa-haa-haa-de-dah” call they make.

Link to recording of two Hadada Ibis calling, South Africa.

I have left my favorite ibis for last–the scarlet ibis. Eudocimus ruber. This marvelously garish bird is native to South America and parts of the Caribbean. We saw it in Trinidad where it is their national bird. A heavy diet of red crustaceans produces the scarlet coloration.

We made a special trip to the Caroni Swamp in Trinidad to see it. We took a boat ride in waning light through swampy channels rife with boa constrictors coiled in mangrove trees above us.

The adventure was much like going out to see the fireworks on July Fourth, exciting and intriguing at the end of the day. But instead of being in the car with friends and family, we were in a boat with a surly captain.

We anchored and waited as the sun fell lower, watching for the scarlet ibis who would be heading to their nighttime roosts.

A few small flocks at a time, they began arriving.

The photo above shows all adults, bright red with black wingtips, except for the brown individual on the far left, that’s a juvenile.

Although we could not get close to the birds due to species protection rules, we did witness the glorious sight of numerous flocks of scarlet ibis descending on island mangrove trees.

Ibis around the world, big birds wading in the mud, yet to humans for thousands of years, we find them exquisite.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

California Oaks and Acorns

September 16, 2022September 16, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 79 Comments

With over 600 species of oak trees on our planet, this venerable tree surrounds many of us. This time of year we watch the seasonal changes, but every season is a joy with oak trees.

Oak trees live only in the Northern Hemisphere. They belong to the genus Quercus, meaning “fine tree” in Latin.

More info: Oak Wikipedia

Here in Northern California, the oaks have endured the summer drought with stoic strength. They stretch their mighty roots deep into the earth for moisture when the rest of the landscape is parched.

We have approximately 20 species in California, the Bay Area has eight or nine. See penultimate photo. Oak woodlands cover approximately 8.8 million acres of California (Bay Nature, Spr. 2022).

Everywhere I go in this great state, I am always studying the oak trees, trying to determine which species I am fortunate to have the pleasure of meeting.

I look closely at the bark and leaves, the shape of the tree, take note of the location.

Acorns are also helpful identifying tools, if there are any on the tree. Phone apps for identifying species help, too.

But identifying an oak species can be tricky, I have found, because they hybridize. So I try not to get too involved with identification studies…I am not presenting a dissertation, it’s simply a walk among friends.

More important than identification is taking note of the grand queen I am in the presence of, and what she has to offer.

An early springtime stroll through oak woodlands reveals lichen-covered and leafless oaks, and winter rains still saturating the hillsides.

Later in spring the lupine wildflowers emerge and the trees are budding.

Winter brings a bouquet of moss and lichen to every tree; many are draped with lace lichen, the State Lichen.

This brown creeper, below, was busy hunting insects nestled in the lichen and moss.

Oaks are magnets for all sorts of wildlife.

This week I had the pleasure of a great horned owl serenade in the oaks out back…a calm duet in the middle of the night.

Autumn is a great time for watching creatures pluck the acorns and whisk them off to their special hiding places in preparation for inclement days.

Acorn woodpeckers, named for their expert reign over oak trees, can often be seen snatching the acorns, squawking loudly, calling waka-waka-waka. They robustly tug and remove the nut and fly off in a flurry of black and white to deposit it.

A granary is a designated place acorn woodpeckers have chosen for storing their precious acorn supply. Usually a granary is a dead tree (not necessarily an oak), but the birds also use utility poles, fence posts, wooden buildings. As colonial birds, they rely on each other to protect their wares.

Over the years they have created these holes for storing acorns.

You can see (below) the holes that are stuffed with tan-colored acorns.

Over time a granary acorn will dry out and get smaller, so the acorn woodpeckers relocate it to a different hole where it fits more snugly and safely.

Buttercups (Ranunculus californicus) and Oaks, CA

Every species of woodpecker visits the oak trees, not just acorn woodpeckers.

And both our jay species do, too. Western scrub-jay and Steller’s jay. When the acorns are ready, the jays doggedly gather acorns all day long.

Equally as fun is witnessing the jays months later retrieving the buried acorns from the ground or shrubbery.

Nuthatches get their name from jamming large nuts and acorns into tree bark, then whacking them with their sharp bill to “hatch” out the seed of the nut.

White-breasted Nuthatch on Oak Trunk, CA

Squirrels of course take to the nuts. We expect this of tree squirrels, but even so-called ground squirrels scramble about in the leaves at acorn time. Apparently the ground squirrels throw caution to the wind, scurrying about in the oak tree instead of on the ground. More than once I have witnessed the ground squirrel falter and fall out of the tree, plop on the ground. They don’t seem to be hurt and in fact go right back up the trunk.

Here you can see a trio of acorns (lower right) that the ground squirrel is precariously heading toward.

Long ago acorns were prized by human indigenous populations too. There is, however, a lot of work to preparing an acorn for human consumption, due to the nut’s tannins.

More info: Acorn Wikipedia

After the acorn celebration is over, in a few months the deciduous oaks will be leafless, giving us a clean view of the gnarly limbs and multiple trunks.

They close down and rest for a season of cold days and nights.

Black Oak, *Quercus kelloggii*, Snow, CA

When spring arrives, the tree produces catkins, its flowers. In the black oak (Quercus kelloggii), photo below, you can see hanging filaments dotted with tiny red balls–those are the catkins.

The leaves start out red.

As the season progresses, the leaves get bigger and turn from red to lime green. Then as the California sunshine intensifies, the lime green leaves turn darker green and get tougher, leathery.

Our old black oak tree was very entertaining every spring when birds arrived to pluck juicy caterpillars rolled up in the new leaves. It was great for the tree too, removing pests.